


Primus Inter Pares

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [15]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:23:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6278833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cuddles lead to kisses. Kisses lead to rubbings. Rubbings lead to the Dark Side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Primus Inter Pares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThisPricklyBitch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisPricklyBitch/gifts).



Kisses are one of the weirdest things to have ever been invented. Invented? Discovered? Developed? Kylo isn’t sure what the correct terminology is, he just knows he likes them. He likes them, but they’re _weird_. You smush your lips to someone else’s, and sometimes they open when you close and then you swap and then you laugh nervously and then it tickles and you’re trying not to giggle and then there’s a thin, teasing tongue and you open up and it’s hotter than hell when they push theirs into your mouth and you don’t know if you’re supposed to moan or not, and you do, and then there’s teeth, too, and you’re breathing all weird and your chest is achey and bubbly and your head is swimmy and the world is so very bright and the sounds are **filthy** but oh, oh so lovely… 

There is no reason why they feel as good as they do. It’s downright ridiculous, and if he was watching from afar, he’d be horrified by the noises and - likely - faces he’s making. But when you have a lap full of Dameron, and you can feel his lips against your own when you break for air, you forget things like _dignity_. Like _decorum_. You remember things like **yes that’s good keep going**  instead.

Kylo doesn’t know how long they’ve been making out for, now. He just knows they stopped eating the food about the time the people in the holo started acting dumb and splitting up. Then, when the ominous music kicked in, Poe started holding his hand and shortly after it turned into him lying sprawled backwards on the couch, with Poe straddling him, and their hands and mouths acting like they’d never seen one another before, and the only way to make mutual acquaintance was to swap saliva and count every strand of hair individually by parsing it through fingertips. 

Kylo thinks he’s maybe a tenth of the way through Poe’s curls. Maybe less.

Someone screams on the holo. He doesn’t even blink. He’s too busy gazing up at the beautiful man on top of him, and wondering again why he’s here. Why he chose Kylo, of all people. He could bed anyone in the galaxy, and he picked… him.

He watches kiss-drunk eyes flicker, the long, doe-like lashes fluttering to rings so dark he could drown forever in their gravity well. Kylo’s known Darkness, but this is **pure** Dark, the kind that is only ever love and passion and victory and strength and freedom. He dances his hands down over his temples, over his cheeks, and tugs at Poe’s lip. So soft, so full, so plump and hungry for more.

“Kylo…”  


“Yes, Poe?”  


Poe is reticent, for once. He’s a weird mix of confident and not. Kylo wonders if other people work it out. The tiny flicker in the corner of his eyes, when he’s trying to be brave. The way one side of his mouth tenses lopsidedly as he grits his teeth before he speaks. It’s endearing, and it reminds him that his lover is - after all - human, too.

“I just wondered…” And now fingers dance like many-legged beasties over his shoulder. “If you wanted to switch things around, for once?”  


Switch… things?

Kylo thinks he knows what he means, but he’s not entirely certain. “…yes?”

“We don’t have to. I just… thought I’d let you know. We can.”  


Kylo is still not certain, but he’s getting there. Poe folds his arms across Kylo’s chest, and drops his chin on top of them. 

“I’d love to,” he tells his pilot. “If you would.”  


Although if Poe expects him to - ah - top… he does know Kylo has only the experience of being on the receiving end, right? And Poe keeps telling him what a lovely, big cock he has. He thinks that’s likely honest, and not just flattery, but what if he hurts him with it?

“You kidding? I’ve been dying to get you in me. Anyone would kill to ride your dick, babe.”  


Kylo flushes from head to toe, and then sees Poe is laughing at him, lovingly. He squirms, and even the kiss to his forehead doesn’t help. “That’s not fair.”

“I’m being serious. Damn. A dick like yours should be ridden, from time to time. If it likes it, anyway.” 

Poe squirms into his lap again, and Kylo grabs his ass in both hands and pushes him down over his body. Their erections are currently trapped between them, and it feels good to have some friction, there. Poe whines needily, and Kylo does it again. He feels hands grab his shoulders for purchase, and he keeps the rubbing, the frotting up until Poe is awkwardly batting at him, and climbing off.   


“Everything okay?”  


“Yeah, I just… if I want this to end without me coming from just… that? I need to get off for a moment. And no - I don’t mean _that_ ‘off’. I mean… just…”  


Poe is rarely flustered, and Kylo beams up with frank and open adoration. He watches as Poe throws his hands in the air, and goes off to find what is most likely lube.

Kylo considers for a moment, then strips all his clothing faster than he ever has in his life. He nearly falls over when removing the last sock, and then throws himself back down onto the couch.

And waits. And waits. And feels self-conscious, and wonders if this was a good idea. And puts his hand over his groin, and - and then Poe comes back into the room with the lube in one hand and he drops the bottle.

Kylo hopes that’s a good sign.

“ _Maker give me strength!”_  


Better be a good sign. Kylo grabs a throw pillow, and covers his face in embarrassment. “Poe, I’m sorry, I–”

“You put that pillow down this instant!” Poe squeaks. _Squeaks_. His voice all high-pitched and hungry.  


Kylo glances around his interior decorations and sees that Poe is stripping just as clumsily as he did. He’s eager and wanting and he also struggles with socks and his cock bounces so proudly and Kylo wonders what it will feel like to finally - to - to _fuck Poe._ To put his dick inside him. To feel his internal walls massage him, and hold him tight. It feels pretty damn amazing _being_ fucked, so it must feel great the other way around, too?

Poe picks up the lube, and moves to straddle him again. He grabs Kylo’s hands and puts the squirty bottle in them. “Hold,” he says, so Kylo does. 

This is possibly the most surreal thing he’s ever done. He has a naked pilot straddling him, and he’s holding a squeezy bottle of sexual lubrication and lying very still. And he’s so nervous he feels like his heart is a cantina band entire, and he wants to laugh but if he starts he fears he won’t ever stop. The bottle jams the first few squeezes, and then it gushes a little too much, too fast, and Poe meets his eye with an instant: “ _Hope that’s not foreshadowing_.”

And Kylo knows he’s fucking doomed, because any man who can make light of the lubricant bottle that makes a farting noise when you press it and splatters them both is a man you want to keep for the rest of your damned life. Dick, kisses, hair, everything else aside. He’s a **keeper**.

He also has his fingers in his own ass. Or so Kylo imagines, because he can see the way his arm is working, and his lip is bitten, and he’s swaying and rocking and moaning and _oh my fucking Force but that’s so hot_. Kylo throws the bottle off, and grabs the back of Poe’s neck to kiss him some more. He kisses him, and swallows down his _noises_ , and finds his wrist and feels the way his hand moves as he preps himself accordingly. The soft noises of opening, and the press of their cocks together, between their bellies. 

Kylo would rub against him some more if he didn’t think he’d go the way of the _sensual massage oil_ or whatever it’s marketed as. Not _ass2go_ , for certain. The kiss breaks, and so does he.

Poe swallows. The kind of swallow that makes his whole throat look like a promise, and Kylo’s heart stops beating.

“You ready?” Poe asks, though Kylo thinks maybe _he_ should ask, instead.  


“Yeah.” Pause. “You?”  


“…yes?” But Poe walks up, on his knees, and Kylo takes that as a sign to grab his own cock. Poe reaches back to rub the rest of the slick onto it, and that’s heaven, too. He holds his dick still, and waits as Poe–  


–Poe sits– he… he lowers himself down, and for a minute, Kylo thinks he won’t open. Lubed or not, this is not going to work. He might have had his fingers up there, but this… this is different when… when all of a sudden he feels the _give_ as his lover’s body opens around him. Opens, and clutches him tight as he slowly drops down. Down and down and down. Down until Kylo is sure he’s died and gone to be at one with the Force, if the Force is a permanent state of sexual bliss.

It might be. No one knows for sure. Jedi sure as fuck don’t know, they probably experience a really mild and boring calm forever. Kylo’s idea of paradise is Poe Dameron either fucking him, or fucking _himself_ onto him. Either is good. Really good. Kylo makes a noise of distress at _how good_ it is, and then there’s hands on his shoulders and he’s holding Poe’s waist.

“Y-you okay, babe?”  


“Me?” Kylo laughs, his voice almost soprano-high. “What about you?”  


Poe’s brow is a mixed mess of confusing _want_ and _stress_ and **need** and something else. He nods, and then he starts to move. And that’s just _wrong so wrong so very very very very VERY_ **wrong** because he’s milking his dick with his ass, and Kylo knows this will _not_ last long.

Force or not. There’s only so much a man can take, and he’s pretty sure he’s gone past that and into insanity. Poe’s this glorious freak of nature and he’s bouncing up and down, and Kylo’s gripping his thighs like crazy, and there’s some string of nonsense about love and forever and wonderful and he’s sure they’re bouncing the same words back and forth, back and forth. 

Because. Because he is. Wonderful. So wonderful. And this - he can live with this. Can live with Poe slamming down so hard his balls slap into his ass on the bounce. Can live with the tight, tight heat. Can live with the sudden way he begs Kylo to touch him, and he does. He puts his hand on his cock, and he strokes him in counterpoint to his bounces, and - and - and then there’s this _gut-wrenching_ **yell** when Poe finally comes. When he comes, in thick, ropey spurts. When he comes all over them both, and the hand - his hand - keeps stroking until he’s almost sobbing. When he comes, and Kylo lasts all of two bounces more before the tension and the emotion and the _smell_ of it tips him over the edge. He calls out Poe’s name as he comes inside him, coating him, marking him as _claimed_. When he seals the deal the only way he knows how. 

When he falls even further in love with Poe.

Kylo is doomed. He is. The man lies flat-out on his chest, and pushes his head onto his shoulder. He pants, and Kylo… Kylo is so very, very lost. Lost in the sea that is Dameron, and he never wants to surface again.


End file.
